


Poison Prince

by parodySphoria



Series: Lyrical Anomalies (Song Inspired Fics) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Gen, Humanstuck, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Moirails With Pails, One Night Stands, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, broshipping, i wrote this for my boyfriend oh, implied quadrant system, they do the frick frack, totes legal in england tho, underage in some countries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parodySphoria/pseuds/parodySphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could spend forever correcting the lies that are said about you: you don't enjoy k-pop, you can't swim, you did go through an emo phase, your jeans aren't as tight as they could be and you didn't sleep with John Egbert last summer.<br/>But the things you know are true are the ones that matter: you can skateboard, you're an above-par rapper, you would kill anyone who dissed your best bro Karkat...</p><p>...and no matter how many times you tell yourself you don't, you <i>really</i> want to fuck your brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the early hours of the morning to try and cheer up my boyfriend, spell checking as I post but if I miss anything let me know !!

_A poetic genius is somethin' I don't see,_  
 _Why would a genius be trippin' on me?_  
 _And he's lookin' at me now but what he can't see_  
 _Is that I'm lookin' through his eyes,_  
 _So many lies behind his eyes._

You could spend forever correcting the lies that are said about you: you don't enjoy k-pop, you can't swim, you did go through an emo phase, your jeans aren't as tight as they could be and you didn't sleep with John Egbert last summer.  
But the things you know are true are the ones that matter: you can skateboard, you're an above-par rapper, you would kill anyone who dissed your best bro Karkat...

...and no matter how many times you tell yourself you don't, you _really_ want to fuck your brother.

Well he's not technically your brother - you tell yourself each night as you contemplate walking across the hall to his bedroom - he came to yours for foster care and your folks ended up adopting him. He's _not_ your brother. He's just some guy; some very, very hot guy that happens to live with you and share the same last name.

He's _not_ your brother.

But why does it make your heart beat faster, laying in your darkened room with your hand below the sheets, when you think of him as such? Why is it so much more dangerous, more risky and fucking enticing when you consider Dirk to be your biological sibling?

You voice this to Karkat one lunchtime, when you managed to sneak off the school grounds and find a nice roof to smoke on. The kid's about a foot shorter than you, but only younger by about 7 months, all half-italian, dark hair and hazel-red eyes. He's short but compact, which apparently adds up to him getting drunk and high much less easily than you do at your 5' 9 of lean muscle. You were off your face on whatever it was Karkat's juggalo friend had given him to put in the fags, and you were running your mouth about all the different ways you'd fuck Dirk for about half an hour before Karkat even considered responding. His voice is raspy usually, but accentuated tenfold by the smoke.

"If you dont fuck him can I do it for you and report back my findings?" He suggests, trying his best not to laugh when you look at him.

You see how long he'll last, "Why don't we both fuck him at the same time?"

He chokes on his next inhale and you steal the roll-up from him, grinning. You only ever grin around Karkat - everyone else is dangerous or far from cool enough to see you how he sees you - shades off, smiling, occasionally shitfaced and pantless. Looking at him now, you don't know what you'd do without him. He makes every situation look a little less depressing.

You don't know how long your feelings for Dirk have gone on for. He started fostering at yours about a year and a half ago, and your parents decided to adopt him only a few months later, once he'd proven himself worthy of a home and a bed to sleep in. He barely interacts with you other than when you run into him in the hallway or at dinner - though that's mainly your fault for spending all day in your room watching tv when you know he's downstairs watching the same thing in the lounge.

It's only when he comes knocking on your door that you think about this. You call a quiet 'come in' from your desk, sat staring at your laptop screen and expecting your mother to come in and scold you for the letter they got from your English teacher today, but instead you look up and into the near-orange eyes of your foster brother. He hovers in the doorway, wearing checkered blue pyjama bottoms and an old tshirt that is far too big for him. His hair is unstyled and messy and his shades - the ones you bought him for Christmas - are nowhere to be seen. He looks older like this, despite the fact he's actually a year older than you - 19 this winter while you finally turn 18.

You look at the time on your laptop, it's half 11 and a Friday night. Your parents are already asleep and the house is dark, save the light from your computer screen. Even the hallway behind Dirk is pitch black. You look at him, raising an eyebrow over the edge of your own shades, placed firmly on your face.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come down and watch some films? Gets a bit boring when it's just me down there every night ya know?" He asks, hand still on the door handle and body still outside your room.

You're shutting your laptop before he's even done speaking, getting up and heading to the door. You're only wearing pj bottoms but you don't think he'll mind you coming down like that, "Yeah sure," you respond, "what films?"

Turns out he's been sat down there by himself powering through the entire Lord of the Rings series. He tells you he does this every Friday night and you laugh a little, calling him a "massive dork" and teasing him just enough that it's still joking. You sit with him on the couch, sharing popcorn and making short comments about the characters. Dirk's asking you which it's more acceptable to ship - Legolas and Gimli or Legolas and Aragorn. You tell him to ship both of them like a normal person and to shut the fuck up. He laughs, and you catch yourself about to join him, pushing down on it, composing yourself back to deadpanned concentration.

You spend a few nights like this, just sat with him, silently watching films. It goes on for weeks, and every time you sit a little closer to him, kick his leg a little when he makes dumb comments. You started rapping about how lame one scene was and he tried to smother you with a couch pillow, and it reminded you so much of Karkat you _had_ to laugh. You got closer, which was dangerous, because it made you see him as even more of a brother.

You were in your room, explaining this horror to Karkat over chat when you heard him.

TG: i dunno man i dont think i can take much more  
TG: the guy is a literal magnet  
TG: and im so pumped full of iron i cant even handle the pull  
CG: THAT WAS A DUMB ANALOGY.  
TG: dont give me words with anal in man you know me  
TG: now all i can think about is his ass  
TG: jesus fuck dude you just broke me  
TG: well done  
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO FUCK YOUR BROTHER ALREADY YOU DEPRIVED WINDBAG.  
TG: oh how i wish i could karkles  
TG: i wish i could  
CG: WHAT'S STOPPING YOU?  
TG: his clothes mostly  
TG: ...  
TG: wait dude i can hear something  
CG: WHAT? THE SOUND OF PUBERTY TAKING ITS TOLL ON YOU?  
CG: CAN YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF ERECTIONS NOW, DAVE?  
TG: no dude i think i can hear  
TG: rapping  
TG: GOOD rapping  
TG: hold up let me check this out  
CG: HAVE FUN FUCKING YOUR BROTHER I HAVE TO GO GIVE JOHN HIS SWEATER BACK.

You walk out into the hallway - it's about midday Sunday so your folks are still down at church so the only one making any noise could be Dirk. You listen at his doorway and yeah, that's definitely him rapping. You can only hear fragments of it but it's pretty tight.

"...I'll slam dunk you posers, your rhyming's atrocious, you're so far below this you're practically a Jonas, so don't think you own this, just cool up and hold it, I'll serve you up like hot chocolate and cool whip-"

You can't help it, you knock on the door, calling through the wood.

"Not bad son but your game's still flat, your materials more outdated than a backwards cap, believe me i'm serious, you sound so delirious, get a pen motherfucker 'cause I'm telling you be fearless."

he comes back instantly, nearer the door now.

"Bro you must be trippin' if you think that's cool, my rhyming ain't outdated it's call old school, I'm a poet at heart, this shit's practically an art, so you'd better appreciate it I might hand you a part."

"I got the part before they'd written the script, all I did was turn up and the director tripped, you think you've got one up I got something to say, beat it you support act this shit is my play."

You can hear him laughing, and you end up laughing too, right on the other side of his door. He asks if you want to come in and you stupidly decline, telling him you need to get back to what you were doing. You beat yourself up about it the whole 8ft back to your computer, only to find Karkat is offline.

Three days later and you're at Karkat's house. You haven't seen Dirk since your little rap battle and you're telling Karkat all about it and he's reminding you to pay attention to the game you're playing because there are _goddamn aliens trying to rip our faces off, Strider, fucking shoot them already._

You sigh, turning on the two-seater couch and looking back to the game of Halo running on the TV in Karkat's room. His dad and brother are away for the week so you're planning on just staying here for a few nights. He thinks that would be a good idea to take your mind off Dirk and all the things you should and could have done. You're such an idio-

"Strider!"

"Shit Vantas don't yell, I'm paying attention I swear!"

He puts down the controller, 'Game Over' flashing on the splitscreen, "Well then you're shit at this game! God how is that brother of yours distracting you this much? You're never like this when you're here usually!"

You put down the controller and your shades, "Look I'm sorry, okay? I just... I'm extremely frustrated and I can't... Do anything about it. Because every time I try to it's nothing but images of him."

"Would it help if it was me?"

You know what he's asking - you had a thing for a long time, a sort of 'experimental stage' as Karkat's dad liked to put it. You were both too reliant on eachother but that didn't mean that after breaking up you ever stopped occasionally helping eachother out, so to speak. It's why you can be so comfortable around him - he's seen you at your weakest, most vulnerable, and you sometimes think that maybe he's the only one you can stand seeing you like that. That was before thoughts of Dirk began clouding your mind, though. You don't want to think about Dirk.

You don't want to think about Dirk, so you lean forwards and kiss Karkat instead, letting out a happy moan when he responds. Bros with benefits doesn't quite cover it - you're reliant on eachother to a point it's practically romantic, but neither of you have a name for it. Karkat said he was going to think of one but you're in no position to ask him now, instead straddling his smaller, stockier frame and pulling his shirt over his head, exposing flesh you know to be marked by clumsy falls, but more weighty than your own form. He's pulling your shirt off too, exposing your less impressive lean-muscle-and-ribs combo. You don't care because Karkat doesn't care. He's told you your body is fine so you believe him. What else can you do but believe him? It's not like he'd ever lie to you, he has no reason to.

He turns you around, lowering you down onto the couch. You land with your head right by your controller and shades, and Karkat reaches out to place them on the floor carefully before kissing you again, knelt over you between your legs with one hand on the couch and the other on your shoulder, running his palm over your collarbone. You like it when he does that, his palms are rough enough that you know this isn't intimate in the same way sex with a boyfriend or girlfriend would be. He never has to use his words like a couple would, he digs his nails in if he wants you to stop doing something, sometimes biting a little too hard to tell you to stop fucking around. It's playful, you like it.

You'd hate ever having to stop, but you know if you ever got an actual normal romantic partner you might have to. You refuse to talk to Karkat about that. You might just vow to stay single forever just so you can stay how you are.

Your pants came off about halfway through that monologue, and you muffle a cry when you feel one of Karkat's fingers inside you, cold and wet. He always takes you by surprise, and he's always leant over you with a shit-eating grin while he does it, all misaligned teeth and slightly crooked nose from one too many breaks when you were younger and used to fight quite differently to how you fight now.

This is your battle, and you've already lost round one.

You pull him down to kiss you, awkwardly trapping his arm between your two bodies and biting at his lip. He practically hisses at you, twisting his arm and getting another finger in, pushing and turning, trying to find that sweet spot. You barely ever let him find it, despite the fact it feels so good when he does you could practically die right there and then. It's just the principle of it.

You turn your head a few millimetres, breaking the kiss and speaking passively to the side of his mouth, "Karkat stop pissing around with your hands and get your dick in me before I cause you some serious damage."

He laughs into your mouth, removing his hand to line himself up, "Your wish is my command, oh Sir Knight of Douchebaggery."

You're about to call him out on being a huge nerd but he's already pressing into you. You didn't give him quite enough time to prep you but you're used to this, the burning muscle, Karkat above you going painfully slow to let you adjust to his slightly-thicker-than-average dick. You've never once complained and you never will, the guy knows how to use what he's got.

He stops once he's in, and you can feel it deep in your muscles, and your own dick is crying out for attention, pressed too lightly against Karkat's stomach for it to be satisfying. You won't whine, you won't complain.

"You're such a dick." You say to him instead after what you counted to be 40 seconds too long of him not moving. He just grins, leaning down to kiss you again, bucking his hips out and in all at once. It leaves you dizzy, gasping into his mouth like some kind of anime schoolgirl as the friction you weren't even kind of prepared for jolts electricity through your entire frame.

Karkat has this disgusting habit of being able to make you cry out his name, and you swear to god one day you're going to punch him for it.

The house is empty, you know that, so the two of you are as loud as you want to be, which in your case is as loud as Karkat wants you to be, and in Karkat's case is disastrously silent unless provoked - like when you wrap your legs over his hips and pull yourself up to meet his thrusts, or when you bite his collar bone a bit too hard.

He's only really loud when he finishes, and it makes you feel better to know that each time he does, he chokes out your name, too.

Your intrusive thoughts only hit you again when you're laying together, touching but not too much, and you start rapping about how good he is in bed. He tries to smother you with the couch pillow, your heart aches. You don't go home that night.

You debate skipping school the next few days - both of you do - but you get a call from John to let you know there's a bake sale on that day and his Grandma made extra cookies for him and his friends. The two of you have never dressed and left the house so quickly in your lives. Nanna Egbert makes the best fucking baked goods and you would literally kill for them.

You return home on the Sunday afternoon, just after your parents should have come back from church. Karkat comes with you, unwilling to spend any more time with his just-returned-from-church-camp brother than necessary. The door's unlocked when you get there, which is unusual but not too weird. You let yourself and Karkat in, letting Karkat go straight upstairs to your room to dump his bag down.

"Yo, anyone home?" You call out from the hallway, hearing your voice weirdly echo off the walls.

"Yeah sup?" calls Dirk's voice from the lounge, as he appears in the doorway, "Where you been all week man? You missed movie night."

"Karkat's." You answer, nodding to the figure making his way back down the stairs. The shorter teen stops three steps from the bottom, looking between you and your brother.

"Hey man." Dirk offers, nodding at Karkat, "You haven't been round in a while."

"Yeah my dad's been doing church shit, had to man the house." Karkat shrugs, "Dave, it alright if I use your laptop a sec?"

"Go for it man I'll be up in a bit." You answer, smiling at him.

Dirk goes to sit back down in the lounge as Karkat walks back upstairs, and you're right back where you started - alone in the hallway. You sigh, heading into the lounge and asking Dirk where "the 'rents" are. He tells you they've gone out for a neighbour's garden party and neither of you were invited. You call them rude, he wholeheartedly agrees. The neighbours love you both, you don't get their problem.

"On the plus side, I'll give you three points." Dirk offers, and you perk up, asking what, "One, they're gonna be over at Carol and Ian's until tomorrow. Two, my fake ID works. Three, the kitchen is now stocked with enough alcohol to bring down a herd of cattle."

"You are a beautiful human being." You deadpan.

"I know man, I know. Go get wasted, I'm already halfway there."

You call Karkat back downstairs and set up everyone with diabolical mixtures of disgusting alcohol. Dirk puts on a movie and the drinking games begin. It's only 4pm when you start, but by 11 Karkat's fallen asleep on the couch with you and Dirk leant up against it, sat on the floor with drinks in hand, talking about bullshit more than you're watching the film - you've pretty much forgotten what film was playing anyway.

"Hey so like..." You start, eloquent as ever, "you ever thought about fucking?"

Dirk laughs into his hand, slurring "Dude I'ma 18 year old guy all I think about is fucking."

You roll your eyes overdramatically, shades long forgotten on the coffee table, "No man I mean like, _us_ fucking."

"Psht, yeah?" Dirk responds, taking another swig of his beer, "Like all the time, it's not like we're _actually_ brothers is it?"

"Exactly!" You cry out, it sounding more like 'ezakly' and making Karkat stir in his sleep. You lower your voice to a stage whisper, "So like, why not?"

"Like now?" Dirk asks, looking at Karkat on the couch, "But what about...?"

"Not here you idiot c'mon." You stand, feeling wobbly. You think this is an excellent idea, one of the best ideas you've ever had in your life, even as you stumble up the stairs to Dirk's bedroom. He's the one with the double bed, after all. He follows you quietly, placing a hand on your hip when you reach his door.

You barely remember it, it's all blurs and colour and darkness, pain and pleasure and seeping regret the further your delve into it. You remember him rocking into you and how it didn't feel like you thought it would - it's drunken lust clouding your vision and making you enjoy it while, looking back on it while sober, you'd never remember it being as good as it felt while it was happening. He barely kisses you, and when he does his mouth tastes of beer and makes you realise that's probably how you taste, too. It goes on for not-long-enough and when you finish he does too, collapsing in a sweaty heap on his bed, panting and still drunk and numb, too numb to have gotten the full effect of it.

In the morning you'd talk about it and decide it was a stupid idea. You'd promise eachother never to talk about it with anyone else.

You'd never go in his room again, but you'd still have movie night.

You climb out of his bed once you hear his breathing get steadier and deeper. You didn't even get your clothes fully off, so you just pull your pants up and your jeans back on, heading back downstairs. You find Karkat, still asleep on the couch, and sit next to him. Your eyes are unfocused and you feel sick with yourself. He's your soulmate, you know that, he found a word for what you are that sounded less stupid but it's essentially what it means. You want to wake him up, to talk, but then his hand reaches up to pull you down next to him, his eyes fluttering open briefly as he says two words to you,

_"I know."_

and you fall asleep in the arms of your 'moirail'.


End file.
